Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
I check my hands and legs for the minor scrapes from the raspberry bushes.
The scratches are gone. Holy crap, I healed.
I healed myself…or did the pocket dimension heal me?
I think back to when I was drying my skin with that towel.
I can’t remember the angry scrapes being there.
No, the scratches were gone. I healed myself.
Bloody hell, that’s amazing.
The revelation is mind-blowing. Will it be only the small stuff, or can I heal like a proper demon? I’m unwilling to test my theory and only time will tell. Ha, it was only a slight cut on my finger and a couple of scratches. No need to go crazy, but it’s something.
I turn and head for the shelves and the demon books; time for some reading.
Thinking of time, at least I know that time in here runs precisely the same as it does outside.
Could you imagine coming into a pocket dimension for ten minutes and then leaving and ten years have passed?
I shiver—magic is so dangerous in the wrong hands.
That’s why I’ve got to be careful.
I don’t know why, but that moment when I asked John if being half-demon made me evil springs into my head. He said, “Being a demon does not make you evil, Emma. It makes you powerful. Power corrupts.”
I have to be morally incorruptible, with my own strict moral compass. I have to have rules…that’s something to think seriously about later.
I spend a few hours reading. When I get hungry, I know it’s time to leave. I need to bring some supplies if I am going to be spending time here.
I leave the books I’ve been reading on the desk—I’m unwilling to take anything with me as I can’t yet protect it outside of this room.
I look around Arlo’s office. With its dark-green walls and low ceiling, it’s cold and drab.
The only things of beauty are the objects themselves and the shelves they sit on.
I wonder why it was made this way. It’s like a basement or a movie office for an old detective who has fallen out of favour and the police department has put him somewhere out of the way.
I wrinkle my nose. If I designed a pocket dimension, I’d make it so homey and bright.
I picture what that would look like, and I sigh and shake my head…
that’s never going to happen. I don’t even know who makes pocket dimensions, let alone has one so nice.
I’d have more luck decorating a cardboard box.
Which might be in the cards if I don’t get a finger out and find somewhere to live.
At the doorway, I put on my hat and coat.
I blow out a nervous breath…I might need to be ready to run if this all goes pear-shaped.
I close my eyes and focus on the en suite door of my temporary bedroom at John’s house.
With that image firmly embedded in my mind, I take a deep breath, open the door, and step through.
I whoop when I step into the bedroom. I then duck down and slam my hands across my mouth. Oops. My ears strain for any movement. When neither John nor Eleanor comes running to investigate, I sag in relief.
Perhaps I need to do less whooping in what is enemy territory.
I grin, wiggle, and do a silent happy-dance instead.
Boom, I am a master…I then immediately freak out.
Oh bloody hell, what happens if I can’t get back in?
My hands flap. I didn’t even bring one book out with me…
oh no…oh no, how could I be so stupid? No, no, no.
My luck wouldn’t be that bad, would it? I cringe and wring my hands. Yes, it would.
I will have to do a test.
I spin to the en suite bathroom door, close my eyes, and whisper, “Secret room, I need you.” I snort, that sounds so silly, Emma.
I force myself to concentrate. I don’t know if the words will work, but anything to help me focus is good, right?
It’s not the words but the intent that matters, and it should help me focus through my panic and my thudding heart.
I step through the door, and the smoky black ward clings to my skin almost lovingly.
Huh, that’s new. But I’m back in the secret room.
Boom, fist pump. I’m so nailing this stuff.
I realise I’ve left the lights on—I don’t even go there, thinking of how that works. The lights, the power…it’s enough to blow my mind. I shrug; it’s magic. I switch them off.
If all else fails, at least I have somewhere to live. Again, I concentrate and step back into the bedroom.
As I stand in the centre of the room, I tilt my head and strum my fingertips on my lips as I contemplate the bed. Huh. If all else fails, at least I have somewhere to live…Mmmm. I wonder if John would notice if I stole the bed.
I grin. I can so see myself dragging it through the doorway and into my new home. No, the key word is stealing, and I can afford my own bed, and the sofa in the storeroom is comfortable.
I grin wider. Stuff it, I’m going to move out. I know the secret room isn’t ideal; it certainly isn’t suitable as a place to live, but it would be incredibly handy and incredibly safe. My new home, it’s perfect.
My bags are already packed. I’ve not been willing to get too comfortable here, and I never unpacked when I arrived from the hospital. So it takes me mere moments to gather my pathetic worldly goods together.
Oh, yeah. I smile smugly when I remember I have a room full of stuff. Important stuff. I can buy more clothing. Bags in hand, I go through the same routine of thinking of the pocket, and when I step through, I stumble.
The room has changed.
I drop my things at the door in shock, and my hands fly to my mouth. What the hell is going on? My eyes are so wide, I feel as if they’re almost bugging out of my head.
Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d have come to the wrong place.
This is not the same pocket at all—oh, all the stuff is here, so I know I’ve not entered some random doorway.
There are still the unending shelves, my smoky, happy-to-see-me ward, but they have magically been moved to make way for a… home.
Total incredulity fills me as I gape at the surrounding room. I pinch myself.
Bloody hell.
All my favourite things that were hidden within the shelves are grouped together—displayed. Instead of Arlo’s murky basement office, it’s a homey space. The walls are a pretty, soft grey, the entire room is brighter. I tilt my head back; the ceiling looks higher.
Arlo’s desk is now in the corner, and the leather sofa is now surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves and a reading lamp—it has been turned into a book nook. A beautiful, cosy mini library. I confirm with a glance that my favourite books and the demon texts I need are close at hand.
I stumble to an ample wooden cabinet with the word potions prettily stencilled onto the door. I trace the writing with my finger and then take a peek inside. It is full to the brim with potions in beautifully crafted bottles.
Even though I cannot use these potions myself, the contents of this cupboard are worth a small fortune.
How can I be immune to potions but sneak through wards?
Use the gateways and my pocket dimension without affecting the magic?
I have no idea. That is the nature of magic.
I smile in the direction of my book nook with all the demon books.
I will do my best to find out. Perhaps with more control, I will eventually be able to use potions?
I gently close the doors and continue to look around.
There’s a weapon area, a kitchen. A dark-grey kitchen with a bright-white worktop and a white ceramic, deep Belfast sink. It has all the kitchen appliances I will ever need.
There are also two brand-new doorways, and when I peek into each room, I find a five-piece modern bathroom in the first room and a perfectly luxurious bedroom in the second. I stroke my hand across the bed and hum when I realise that the bed linen is super soft.
Back in the main room, I spin, my mouth agape, as I take in my new, magical home.
What the hell kind of magic is this? It is everything I imagined I would want for my own space, a proper home that no one can take away. Linking the pocket dimension to me must have caused this to happen. Wow.
I spin. I need to find that book. My eyes fly around the room, and my gaze lands on Arlo’s—no, no, on my desk.
There was a passage in that book…I rush to the desk and after a quick search I snatch up the book and carefully flick through the pages.
There was an almost-offhand comment I had seen…
there…If the pocket dimension has ties with a powerful magic-user, over time the dimension can adapt within the original footprint for that magical user’s needs.
Huh. I blink and look around again. Well now, that is interesting.